


It's kidnapping, that's all [translation]

by ShaklospeareLin



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: A rather successful revenge, Blood, Gen, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, Major Character Injury, Promise, Protective Roman, Rescue, Swearing, Tortured Victor, Translation, Use of Fentanyl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:14:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25354588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaklospeareLin/pseuds/ShaklospeareLin
Summary: Mr. Zsasz had disappeared for about a week. And Roman wasn't happy about it.
Relationships: Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	It's kidnapping, that's all [translation]

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, fair warning, I am not a native English speaker.  
> It's my first(kinda) work in english  
> I tried, because I was bored. (sorry  
> So there will be (i'm sure) embarrassing and stupid grammar mistakes and such.  
> If you are still gonna read it, I thank you with all my heart.

Roman Sionis’s right-hand man had disappeared. Gotham city murmured. They joined heads and laughed at it discretely, even dared to enjoy some sharing sarcasm. Until Sionis had his blade pointed at their precious neck, or was casually swinging his gun around their temple, which opened the whole daily show of screaming, begging, and disgusting snot bubbles. _**Ew**_.

Mr. Sionis was certainty not in a good mood these several days. he wasn’t feeling generous at all. He couldn’t quite control his rage, not that he ever tried to in the past. But it certainly came more often in a way that he couldn’t repress. Roman would be humming and dancing in front of the new bodies, and out of a sudden angrily shoot at the new so-called temporary right-hand. He never stopped complaining and cursing the corpses which usually missing a chunk of the brain or some pieces of heart or half of the neck for being not decent. When Sionis finally went back to his relatively calm state, he would wave his hand and appoint a new right-hand to hang up the bodies.

Hanging faceless bodies then soon became a big and bright sign that confirmed the missing of Roman Sionis’s former, or rather THE ONE AND ONLY right-hand man.

Truth to be told, the whole missing thing was not anything unfamiliar or unusual to the people of Gotham. Any missing person in Gotham was usually and merely vapored by someone or something. It just happened, like it always did. Nothing to be worried about. It’s not like they would be found, in most circumstances. This was Gotham. It was just not a place for happy people to be born or live in. Whether it was the big one who ran the economy or the one who allegedly would lead Gotham toward a brighter future, sometimes was one who owned both of these traits, even they can disappear overnight. Everybody knows that.

But no sir, not Roman Sionis.

Sionis the crybaby who born with a golden spoon and born into the title of sir and master, who was reckless and spoiled, ruthless and changeable, nope, he just wouldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t bear this harsh slap in his face. Gotham city never runs short of man, or man who wanted to be the right-hand man of Roman Sionis. But Roman just wouldn’t take any of them.

Substitutions for this single position were changed-shot dead shall be the better word but you know, decency still mattered-several rounds a day in these few days. Some subordinates of his, who were sent with the purpose of searching, were also killed due to the uncontrollable rage of Sionis after reporting nothing fucking useful. Through all of that, Sionis hadn’t yet recovered his Mr. Zsasz.

Roman had the gloomy and grumpy look on his face. He believed that Mr. Zsasz wouldn’t leave him. His Mr. Zsasz loved him too much to want to leave. Hence he can definitely find him. Whether it would be Sionis finding Zsasz or vice versa.

Such confidence also came from the fact that Zsasz had promised his life to Roman. Mr. Zsasz was nothing if not loyal and promise-keeping. Sionis sat before his black mask. The tears which trickled out of anger and dismay were still sliding down his face. He thought to himself, if Zsasz was dead, he would do it before Roman’s eyes, or in front of Roman, or in Roman’s hand.

Sionis gradually had all his messy emotions calm into a blank stare.

Maybe Mr. Zsasz would come back to him no more. Maybe Mr. Zsasz had died in some filthy alley. Maybe Mr. Zsasz would never fulfill his promise. He might have betrayed Roman. He betrayed the Black Mask.

Sionis felt the surge of rage slamming on his chest once again. It cracked out a stream of pain and distress. It came at him with a rather strange feeling. Usually he could do whatever his feelings urged him to do, and usually that means someone’s face would be mercilessly peeled off for fun. But now he couldn’t do anything.

It’s like he wants to do so many things at the same time that he couldn’t pick a favorite nor did he have enough passion to do them all together. It was unprecedented.

He thought he had already past the phase of roaring shooting, crying, and breaking. Because now as he gave everything a thought, he gradually felt a weird and creepy calm blended with blazing anger rushing through him. He didn’t even want to wear the Mask. He wanted Mr. Zsasz. He solely wanted him. He wanted Mr. Zsasz right now and here with that fucking smile which always made Roman wanted to kiss him so hard and slap him so hard on that scarred face at the same time.

Fucking fucks. Everyone in Gotham should’ve known that they can’t just fucking make Roman Sionis’s right-hand man disappeared. It’s just fucking rudely disrespectful. And that should come with a price which supposed to be worse than their most horrifying nightmare. So that they know you just don’t play your own game around Roman Sionis.

Sionis threw the nearest vase to the ground. “Fuck!” He shouted, seemed like eventually he didn’t pass that phase, “Fucking Fucks!”

Meanwhile, the wanted man Victor Zsasz was on the floor of some dim basement. He slowly inhaled the humid air. It circled in his dying body and brought him the slightest hope of living. Zsasz considered it as probation.

He had been in this basement for at least a couple of days. Zsasz couldn’t be sure how long he passed out. But if he had to guess, then from the color of the marks causing by the rope tying tight on his wrists, he must have disappeared for about a week. The person kidnapped him had mask on throughout the torture, but Zsasz knew it from the way that his kidnapper tortured him that this one was personal. A revenger, that was.

Well he didn’t need the brain of Sionis to do this deduction. Firstly, Victor Zsasz had enemies, obviously. He was the right-hand man of Roman Sionis, and he had a fairly impressive work experience, which his body could prove easily. So most likely this stupid masked kidnapper was one of them, or an indirect victim anyway. Secondly, the man never spoke a word. He must’ve scared to death of the consequence of being recognized. He might’ve been mute. Still, he wore that dummy mask. So, obviously.

But whatever the masked man might be, he certainly was not a fucking pussy. The revengeful soul should not have a PhD in torture, but Victor Fucking Zsasz was the one weakly panting on the floor of a God-knows-where basement. So Zsasz had to give credit to the man. Bravo, dummy.

_**Damn it.** _

Zsasz hated this type of revenge. He would love to encounter an act of revenge that includes but not limits to shouting, shooting, and swearing. He appreciates the face to face combat type, usually that would allow him to kill some time (and people), not the type alike to what stalkers and rapists would do. He fucking hated the chemists right now for inventing such shameless stuff. Zsasz guessed the man used fentanyl spray considering how fast the chemical worked and how his life weighted nothing to the man.

Fentanyl spray, fucking fentanyl spray.

He actually admired the method that the masked man used, but also gnashed his teeth for it. The masked man had disappeared for a couple of days after he had left Zsasz these fucking wounds. Victor hoped so fucking much that this meant the guy was murdered by Boss or some other men.

The blades were still in his body, continued to create further damages. Their hilts were chopped off intentionally while the blades were stabbed into his flesh. Even if Zsasz had already freed himself from the rope that restrained him for quite some time, he dared not to pull any of that blades out. A forceful pull might just sign him to death by abundant blood loss. He didn’t wish that to happen, not yet anyway.

Zsasz breathed with trembles, but also couldn’t quite stop maniacally laughing. He madly laughed with his husky voice, while the blood flowed like a fucking stream from the wounds across his upper body. Blades shining sliver in his bloody wound. Victor’s throat had already worn hoarse during the torture, now it only returned tearing pain and dryness. Cough violently stopped him from laughing. He panted heavily as he couldn’t control himself from tearing.

The special wounds were fresh and unusual on Victor’s body. They didn’t match the length or the shape of his old scars. Therefore they stood out well, like some fucking trophies that prove the failure of Victor Zsasz. He felt humiliated and he felt like he was bleeding all over the place because his whole body ached like he was going through literal hell. He used to love pain. But this was something he couldn’t bring himself to love about. Surely if he was the one doing it then it would be fun. But no, he didn’t enjoy it right at the moment. Victor waited for his breathe slowly moved into a rather stable state. He then raised his hand which was pressuring the wounds on his stomach up to glance briefly. As he expected, it was covered in blood.

The thick and warm blood trickled its way down. And Zsasz felt like this was going to be the end of him. Alone, and unfaithfully. Victor made a noise similar to a sob deep in his throat. His throat wasn’t able to let him crying out loud now. Fucking pathetic. Victor thought. But he couldn’t die here. He couldn’t die somewhere without Boss' consent. He had promised Roman that.

Victor moaned, painfully. He tried his best to turn himself around with clumsy movement. The blades twisted in his flesh and carved deeper into the wounds. Pain just burst into fire and burned mercilessly through every nerve existing in his body. Victor’s vision fuzzed for a second. It’s like being hit harsh in the head and your brain just trances for awhile. He heard himself gasped heavily as he successfully groveled flat on the ground. It hurt so fucking much.

Zsasz dragged his almost numb body toward the direction to the door. He clashed his teeth together as his whole body shook in pain. Fuck. His vision clouded with flashing and jumping black spots. He wanted to see Roman with his whole heart. He wanted to die before Roman than here. He belonged to Roman Sionis.

He panted in distress, hit his head harsh on the door. Victor weakly lied on his stomach, felt hardly able to breathe. Boss…He moaned.

And there were fragments of giggle slipping pass his pale lips while he couldn’t stop his tears from falling down due to the sharp and constant pain. Tears, sweat, and blood vaguely blended with one and others, gathered in the dip under his lower lip. Soon he could only hear his breathing growing weaker along with his heartbeat.

Then he realized that he couldn’t hear anything at all. His head was so heavy and dizzy. His ears were buzzing. All of a sudden, his world fell quiet, too quiet. He was either going to faint or die. Victor had his forehead met the ground and eyes on the crack in the floor. Slowly his sightline stretched toward the moss grew on the further corner.

He might never meet his boss ever again. But he so damn much wanted to. Victor blinked his eyes, realized that the darkness gradually had control of his vision. _I am_ _so fucking dirty._ Zsasz thought. _Hope that Boss will be willing to bury me when he sees me like this._ He was fainting. _Never mind, Boss can do whatever he wants to my body, even if he wants it in a fucking trash can._ Victor’s mind was so heavy. The gravity was pulling him down to its embracing pitch-dark whirlpool. _Just find me._ Zsasz couldn’t resist the calling from down there anymore. The pain was pulling out from his body. Victor couldn’t feel the pain the torture had brought him anymore, nor did he feel anything at all.

He had lost his consciousness.

Gotham City could have lost a villain that day. Unfortunately, THE Roman Sionis wouldn’t let the city sacrifice his right-hand man to fulfill such a dream. He was Roman Sionis, after all. Every fucking breathing thing should be at his command in his world. Because so long after you killed so many infamous, famous, and powerful people, you find whatever and whoever you want. Generally speaking, the whoever or whatever might get dropped at his club, wrapped up like a fucking Christmas present.

Sionis stared at the mid-aged man who was hanging upside down from the ceiling just as he liked. He had a charming and satisfying smile faking on his face. The silky voice said, “Thank you very much. ” in the most sincere tone. As the smile died, the covered in blood chemist hanging passed out with full-hearted fear. Sionis hadn’t finished with this person yet. He would be back and be collecting the debt.

The man deserved none of Sionis’s mercy. He would certainly set an example for those who have the intention of disrespecting Mr. Sionis and his right-hand man. Black Mask needed everyone to learn that: No one fucks with Roman Sionis, No one gets to mess with Roman Sionis and gets away clear. Anyone disrespects Roman Sionis would not earn an easy death.

Roman took off his bloody glove, frowning. He commanded the subordinates to watch over the pussy behind the mask, disgust in his tone. And now he needed to get his Mr. Zsasz home.

The basement door was pulled open. Corpse-liked Victor Zsasz was put on the stretcher carefully. Roman only glanced at his right-hand man once during the whole rescue.

Sionis sat in the passenger seat anxiously. He pointed his gun at the driver, swearing and shouting at the driver about speeding up. He felt a rush of nausea and uneasiness flowing in his vain. And he fucking hated it. He shot at the car window beside the head of the driver and shouted with both frustration and irritation in his voice toward the back of the ambulance which now sitting two busy medics, “Fucking people, your lives depend on his. You’re all going down to hell with him, clear?”

On the edge of waking and sleeping as Zsasz heard the declaration. He was glad that he wasn’t quite awake nor quite able. Or else he might have laughed it off right at Roman’s face, which inevitably would lead him straight to a tragic death in the hands of a provoked Boss. He smiled quietly in his mind and indulged himself back into the soft darkness. He felt at ease now. And somehow he might not really mind even if he died right at this moment.

But he was alive. As he finally came to his consciousness, Mr. Zsasz surprisingly had his sightline met with Roman’s. Boss was leaning on the doorframe as he stared at Victor. Victor wanted to say something but apparently his throat forbade him to do so. Roman then raised a side of his eyebrows,“Welcome home, Mr. Zsasz.” Victor believed that this home referred to the side of Roman. Even though the wounds on his face still stung a little, he smiled anyway.

Roman paced himself to the side of Victor’s bed and patted his right-hand man incredibly light. Gentle was buried deep in his tone, with impatience floating on top,“Come the fuck back to me ASAP, ‘Kay?” Victor’s smile quickly grew into a grin, did his best to respond, voice incredibly hoarse,“At your command, Boss.”

Then right on that day, Roman Sionis finally got his dearest right-hand man back all to himself again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again for finishing it!!  
> Plz feel free to leave comments!!


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